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Tag Archives: Paul Ridd

i’m all like, cramming into a packed little festival screening room at 9AM on three hours sleep

i’m all like, crying in the first eight minutes when all we see are wind-swept vistas and shots of a child playing amongst cattle

but I didn’t like, understand why i felt like that, you know?

i’m telling you how like, the imagery and sounds aroused in me this feeling that somehow if i could just say what it was I was feeling, if I just, like, thought about it hard enough, but I just, like, can’t

i’m like staggering onto the street at the film’s finish, taking these thick drags of cigarette, trying to compose myself and say anything like REMOTELY coherent about the whole fucking beautiful thing

and i was like, ‘me too. yes yes. I have felt bored with lovers, wanted to hit dogs, wanted to pull my head off, wanted to take part in a rugby game despite my frame, wanted to take down the hegemonic power structures driven by heterosexual monogamous reproductive unions, money, boredom and a feeling that if we just, you know, like

and if we could just like, look at the trees once in a while maybe before like tearing them down and stop like, counting money, we could all be like ‘we’re in this together, they’re individuals, we have a team.’ you see?

then maybe having children wouldn’t be so fucking depressing and we wouldn’t have to sit about like, warbling neil young and feeling sad about everything

but I’m like, is it actually about anything? it certainly looks good

and i’m all like ‘it really fucks me off when all the critics pan it for being difficult to understand’

but, like, it is.

so if you’re all like ‘well if you like it so much, why don’t you write something about it?’